


The Sad Tale of Agatha and Keegan Daunt

by Braxdovah



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, White Wolf
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braxdovah/pseuds/Braxdovah
Summary: A precursor of Rhett Bolton - a mortal days vignette
Relationships: Keegan/Agatha





	The Sad Tale of Agatha and Keegan Daunt

Lay back and think of London every night. Count your allowance in your mind when she insists on another kiss. It isn’t so terrible until she leers at you in the morning light. Remind yourself with every easy meal and warm night that you have done worse for less. Have I? You have traded a lean existence on the streets and back alleys for what? The mind numbing realization that you sold yourself into prolonged slavery to a lecherous old bitch. 

“Keegan, Keegan, sweet love, come here and let me see you.” The young man silently inwardly groans but moves closer to the crone. Her claw like nails gripping his jaw. “So handsome and virile.” He starts to protest. “Kiss, boy. Be a good lad.” He attempts to give her chaste kiss and pull back. For an woman easily twice his age she had a iron grip and no qualms about helping herself to the sort of kisses she desired. “Tonight, you are going to fulfill your duties as the man of the house.” His stomach turns and she lets go, stroking his cheek. “After all, how else would I give you bouncing babes?” 

Laying back and thinking of London wasn’t going to help tonight. When the marriage had first been proposed, he had balked. Once the options of marry her and be a kept if not thrilled man or directly to prison and then if she was feeling charitable, she may make the offer of a marriage again had been laid out before him. He had accepted with a smile. He had not counted on her being a lusty old broad that had no compunctions. His maid was chosen for her looks and meek temperament. If Agatha had told her to walk off the roof nude she would have. As far as Chastity was concerned being told to regularly seduce and demonstrate that the young Master was capable of his duty, it was far preferable to polishing the silver or scrubbing the floors. 

Not only would he have to take to her bed tonight, she would expect his full ardor. She had made it clear after secret observation that she did not mind him sleeping with the help. “Do not get her up with child, Keegan.” His blood had run cold. “Sweet love, I was watching. Do not fret. In fact, bring her into our quarters tonight. I would like to have a better view.” He had been too shocked to disagree. Agatha knew he was quite capable. 

Keegan walked out to the stables and mounted his horse. Perhaps, he could just get himself thrown on a ride. “With my bloody luck, I would barely crack my egg and then what? Have to have bed rest with my doting wife.” He spurs the horse on, fuming as he rides. “Or what I manage to kill myself…That would be nice. Just think of the will. The will..that is it.” A cold bitter smile crosses his face as he reins the horse towards the river. A no less than twenty plucked leaves and flowers later, one by one dropped into his flask of gin. He returns home, and leaves his horse to be kept by the groom. Curiously, he tosses his gloves of fine leather to the young man as well. “Clean them, I seem to have knicked them during my ride.” 

Later that evening after the meal, Agatha has hot chocolate fortified with wine brought to them in her sitting room. “Keegan, see how much nicer things are when you don’t pout or break your promise to me.” He nods and tries not to cringe as she looks him over. I have seen that expression on hounds at a bone. All too soon the drink is gone and he grimaces. A not foreign but unexpected heat fills him and she chuckles at the flush filling his skin. “Decided it was best to not leave your desires to whim. Now come let me take care of your need.” 

The moment of truth, she beckons him to undress and does the same leading him to the bedchamber in a twisted replay of the wedding night where his will had faltered and he had only been reprieved by a flare up of her gout. He rises shedding clothing as he goes, setting his flask on the table by the bed. “Take a nightcap with me after?” He doesn’t wait for her answer, doesn’t bother thinking of London or Chastity. His thoughts are of her, frozen in terror, of flames licking up the coverlet of the bed. Each kiss, each touch, every frenzied moan from her lips is a moment closer to freedom. He beds Agatha with a fierceness that she had only dreamed of. She is half asleep moments after they finish buying him time to gather a few things from the room. “I will be back, darling wife.” Nothing terribly obvious can be taken but enough clothes to let him get decent and be presentable as he collects the insurance. Prepared and with two bottle of gin in hand, he props her up in bed and kisses her awake. “Here, my darling wife, drink this.” Tipping the flask to her lips, she drinks instinctively. By the time she is awake enough to realize he is pouring the entire flask down her throat, the hemlock in the gin has already begun to stiffen her joints. 

He scoops up the jewelry box and slides it into the traveling valise. “I did promise you to death do us part.” Slowly he pours the two bottles of gin over the whimpering woman. The liquid seeping into the bed and dripping onto the floor. Gently he places the candle by her feet and flicks it over as he picks up his bag and walks out. “Goodbye, Agatha. Do mind the house while I am gone.” 

Despite collecting the insurance monies and liquidating the estate of Agatha Daunt, her husband Keegan Stone was not seen again. It was rumored he had moved to the colonies or the Indies. Though the maid and stable hand did quietly marry and move to a small home in a far away town with the proceeds from the sale what most assumed but no one cared enough to ask were the late madam Daunt’s pearls.


End file.
